Cloak  and  Dagger
by sweet-and-simple
Summary: Gokudera witnesses first hand Yamamoto's darker nature.  He reminisces, but he just can't figure put how it happened.  No actual pairing


_**Summary: The only difference between Yamamoto and Hibari is that Yamamoto smiles.**_

_**Warning: Somewhat OOC Gokudera**_

"Tsch!" Gokudera shoves his hands in his pockets, chewing on the butt of his cigarette as he glares spitefully at the back of his partner's head. "Why the _fuck_ would Juudaime pair me up with _you_? You're more useless than the dumb cow when it comes to missions like this!"

Yamamoto smiles sweetly, rubbing the back of his head where he can actually _feel_ Gokudera's glare drilling a hole through his skull; it doesn't bother him as much as amaze him that Gokudear could be so focused in his anger. "Mah mah~ Gokudera-kun, we've been on missions together before!" He looks back at his short-tempered friend, amber eyes warm. "We make an awesome team!"

"Not when it comes to _this_ kind of mission!" Gokudera repeats himself; for having to do so, he throws a pebble at Yamamoto's head.

It pings off of onyx black hair, making Yamamoto wince before laughing again. "What's so different about this mission?"

"We're going to _kill_ someone." Gokudera throws his head high, speaking down to Yamamoto in a condescending tone. "Something _you_ wouldn't understand! I bet the only thing you've ever killed are your own brain cells!"

Yamamoto's back to him, he doesn't see the rain guardian's funereal expression; sardonic amusement at Gokudera's words. The expression only last for a moment however before he tilts his chin up and laughs it off. "Maybe!" It's easier to not fight Gokudera on these things. "Have you ever killed someone, Gokudera-kun?" He watches for Gokudera's reaction out of the corner of his eyes.

Gokudera flushes and sputters, green eyes widening in insult. "N-not yet!" He huffs and puts on an angry face. "But I know that I can!"

Yamamoto smiles gently – carefully, as if there are secrets he wants to tell but can't because that would harm instead of help – and sighs. "Why would you want to kill someone, Gokudera-kun?" He speaks with a nonjudgmental, completely neutral tone, as if they were talking about why Gokudera liked the weather warm instead of cold.

The silverette smirks. "It's the ultimate way to prove my devotion to Juudaime!" He fists a hand in the air, a sign of his resolve. "No one can ever doubt my loyalty if I were to kill someone in Juudaime's name!"

"Tsuna-kun wouldn't want that."

"_What_?"

There is a shadow cast over Yamamoto's eyes; his lips are twisted in a painfully dolor smile. "Tsuna-kun is always trying to save lives and preserve peace – the best way to prove your loyalty to him is to just walk away whenever the situation gets dire." He lifts his head, the shadow falling away; plastered on his lips is a completely fake smile. "Remember the ring wars? Even then, he didn't want anyone to get hurt and he begged you to walk away from the fight to save your life. Why would he want you to kill someone to prove your loyalty to him?"

By now, Gokudera was both ashamed at being called on the truth and pissed at Yamamoto for being the one to call him on the truth. His hands fisted in his pockets and he growled at the rain guardian, hatred blooming in his glower. "Don't fucking tell me what's what." He snorted, pouting off in a random direction where he couldn't see Yamamoto. "Stupid baseball bastard…"

"Gomen… I didn't mean to upset you."

Silence descended over them – a painfully thick, static silence.

They arrived at their destination what felt like an eternity later: a Spanish Mission style home fortified with three layers of defenses – the first being a 12-foot electric fence, the second several different outputs 20 feet above ground, and the third 23 foot barbed wire voltage fence.

Five minutes later, they're slipping in the front door of the mansion, destruction left behind them, but no casualties… yet.

"Waaah~ This guy lives in style!" Yamamoto brushes his fingertips along one portrait of a beautiful woman, bare from hips down where her blossom-pink robes sink to cover her intimacies. "She has really pretty eyes."

"Are you sure you're only looking at her _eyes_?" Gokudera snarls at him, rolling his own smoky green eyes to the ceiling.

Yamamoto casts him a confused glance. "Am I supposed to be looking at something else?"

"You're an idiot."

Silence settles again – less uncomfortable but still wired. Their feet whispered over ceramic tiles.

The pearl pink stucco walls were lined with similar portraits of many different beauties, no matter male or female. They pass built-in benches and three bell-shaped fireplaces. The windows are of saints made into stained glass.

Neither of them makes any comment.

Off in the distance, a siren howls.

"Fuck!" Gokudera snaps out another cigarette. "One of them woke up." His teeth grit together as he lights the cancer stick. "We're on a schedule now. So hurry the fuck up, baseball freak!" He jogs up the stairs, smoke wafting behind him as he replaces his lighter with a stick bomb.

"Gotcha, Gokudera-kun."

It makes no difference – in only a moment, the overwhelming stomping of many feet can be heard; movement can be seen at the first floor.

Gokudera curses under his breath. "Oi, baseball freak! Stay here and distract them!" He pulls a glock from under his jacket, cocking it. "I'll finish the damn mission."

For one startling moment, Yamamoto stares at him completely emotionless. His eyes regard Gokudera seriously, sizing him up. Abruptly, he smiles – the same old, carefree Yamamoto. "Yosh! Be careful, Gokudera-kun. Tsuna-kun wants us to be home by dinner!" He trots down the stairs, going to meet their oncoming attackers.

Gokudera is left to himself, heat stuttering in shock. "Th-the fuck?" He shakes his head clear of disturbing thoughts, running up the stairs.

Their target is cowering into a sleigh bed with a black steel frame. A pistol trembles in his one hand as he points it at Gokudera.

He shoots – no bullet. He moans a dead man's moan as he fumbles in his bedside nightstand for the missing bullet that should have pierced Gokudera's heart. Tears bathe his chubby cheeks red and his large, doll-like black eyes are glazed over with terror.

He looks like an oversized child desperate for his momma.

A thought begins niggling in the back of Gokudera's mind but he shoves it aside; it doesn't matter! Juudaime rarely puts a hit on someone, so he _has_ to execute this just right. If he doesn't, he will let Juudaime down…

He points his gun directly between his target's eyes – the man wails. He can't get his hand on that missing bullet. Gokudera's finger twitches – not towards the trigger but _away_. He snorts, disgusted with himself. All he has to do is _shoot_.

He tries, but he can't get his finger to squeeze down. Bile rises into his throat, burning in his mouth. Just _shoot_. All he has to do is _shoot_, and then it will all be over…

He can hear gunfire behind him – the cutoff screams of their target's men. Bull _shit_ if he'll be outdone by the baseball freak! After all, all the bastard must be doing is knocking them down hard with the dull edge of his sword.

He can do this. All he has to do is _shoot_.

He thinks of his mother in that moment – not of _how_ she died but the fact that she _was_ dead.

His gun clatters on the ground, skittering away from him on the smooth ceramic tile flooring. He stares at his hand, his mind numb but his body sick. Oh _fuck_, he can't do it… He thinks, deadened: _I'm sorry, Juudaime. I can't do it. I thought it would be easy, but it isn't… I'm so sorry. Please forgive me, Juudaime._

The target finds the missing bullet – in one fluid moment that belies his shaking, he points his now loaded gun at Gokudera's jugular.

'_BANG –ang –ang –ang'_ Dead silence at the shot echoes…

Gokudera holds his breath, waiting for… something. Pain? A deathly chill? _Blood_?

… Wait a second…

Their target's eyes roll into the back of his head; he wheezes and chokes but falls off of the side of the bed nonetheless. There, he bleeds out.

In the direct center of his forehead is a small, perfect circular hole.

"Are you okay, Gokudera-kun?" Yamamoto's voice breathes with concern near his ear. A gun cocks.

Spinning on his heel, Gokudera witnesses Yamamoto lowering his gun to his side, the muzzle smoking. His amber eyes are steely and his lips are pressed thin, severe looking. "Y-You… You _killed _him." Gokudera's hands shake – his hazel green eyes are as wide as saucers, glistening. "How the _fuck_ could _you_ do that?"

"We have to go, Gokudera-kun. I think one of the guards was able to call enforcements."

"Don't ignore my question!"

"Does it really matter?"

"Wh-what?" Yamamoto's amber eyes drown him, mysterious and depthless, they focus on Gokudera with a predatory glow. "What's with that look?"

"Gokudera-kun, let's go home." The silverette's hands tangle in Yamamoto's bloodied white sleeved vest. "Gokudera-kun?" Gokudera collapses against his front, knees shaking and head buried into his chest. "Gokudera-kun!"

"You've killed before, haven't you?"

"…"

Gokudera snorts. "No wonder… Juudaime put me on this mission with you." Gokudera had assumed it was because Juudaime trusted _him_ to make the shot in place of Yamamoto – who he had assumed wouldn't be able to do so. No… it was the other way around.

Juudaime had trusted Yamamoto to make the shot. Not Gokudera.

A hand rubs his back. "We really have to go. I can hear voices." Rising howls of fury and bloodlust were coming from the bowels of the mansion.

After a moment, Gokudera nods. "Yeah…" He pulls away, expression cold; he scrutinizes Yamamoto, trying to see this new person in the idiot he had thought he knew.

This Yamamoto looks untouched by the blood and death that bathes him red like one full-body tattoo. His eyes are distant, thoughtful. There is a deep frown on his lips as he listens to the approaching enemy.

He thinks of the Yamamoto he had known just this morning – full of forgiveness for his bullheadedness and smiling at his selfish antics. This morning, he had given up the last cookie to a downcast Lambo. This morning, he had offered up his coat to a yet again left-behind Chrome who had been gazing out into the cool morning with woe, shivering. This morning, he had been a selfless _idiot_.

And now he was an emotionless killer.

Gokudera pales. When did _that_ happen? Why hadn't he noticed? He thinks to himself: _There had always been hints at it._ And he remembers Yamamoto and Hibari actually holding conversations, of Hibari no longer calling Yamamoto an 'herbivore'. He remembers Reborn's camaraderie with Yamamoto, fellow hitman to hitman understanding. He remembers Juudaime's sorrowful eyes following after his rain guardian.

He finally comprehends the obvious – what everyone else had known but had never spoken of. The revelation makes him dizzy; sucks the air from his lungs as his nails bite into Yamamoto's chest.

Yamamoto is a cloak-and-dagger cover up.

_**Author's Note: This is about 5, 6 years into the future, ignoring the future arc. **_

_**I honestly do believe that Yamamoto has a darker nature than most realize. As far as I am concerned, he is just about as strong as Mukuro and Hibari.**_


End file.
